صفحة 137 من 3800

"My friend," said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, addressing

the hall porter, "I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill...

that's why I have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb

him, my friend... I only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is

staying here, is he not? Please announce me."

The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and

turned away.

"Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich," he called

to a footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail

coat, who ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway

landing.

The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a

large Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes

briskly ascended the carpeted stairs.

"My dear," she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a

touch, "you promised me!"

The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly.

They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to

the apartments assigned to Prince Vasili.